


And Therefore I Forbid My Tears

by jouissant



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/pseuds/jouissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rebooted version of the TOS episode Conscience of the King; you may want to give it a watch before reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Themes: Angst, hurt/comfort, general Tarsus IV badness.

Spock can't sleep. He isn't sure when it starts, just that it does, and suddenly it's the third night in a row that he lies in artificial darkness, eyes shut, trying to clear his mind as the glow of the chrono pulses blue against his lids. It is, Spock thinks objectively, most fascinating. He wonders if this is perhaps a delayed affect of prolonged space travel on his circadian rhythms, but four months into the Enterprise's five-year mission seems an odd juncture at which to randomly experience insomnia. He casts his mind back over the events of the past few weeks. He searches for a sticking point, some rough spot of anxiety he might smooth over with meditation or, barring that, systematic determination of a logical solution to whatever the problem might be. He finds nothing out of the ordinary. Spock has never found it prudent to dwell on problems the way humans do, worrying them as a canid might a bone. Nyota is like him in this; they both prefer to allot their energies to productive solutions rather than mental hand-wringing. Or roaming the halls weeping, thinks Spock darkly. No, even on the worst day in his personal history thus far, Spock turned away from emotion and sought refuge in action. For a while, at least.

Redirecting himself from that particular train of thought, he sits up in bed with a decisive exhalation not at all akin to a frustrated sigh. He has spent two nights (or, rather, the period of time designated "night" on a starship traveling through perpetual blackness) waiting for sleep to come and meditating on the potential reasons why it does not. It is not logical to continue this process if it will not immediately yield the desired result. His time is better spent on other tasks.

Perhaps choosing to focus his thoughts and actions to other areas will have the added benefit of relieving his insomnia. The thought bolsters him as the chrono glows at him with irritating cheeriness, not that it is at all logical to ascribe emotion to a technological device. It is 0300 hours.

"Computer, lights."   
**********************************

The labs on Deck 4 are full of the same harsh, bright white that glares on the bridge. Spock finds that after an extended period working in either environment his eyes begin to tire. It's not that his vision is impaired, more that his actual ocular muscles become fatigued. Nurse Chapel recommends corrective lenses. Of course, there are surgical procedures to correct vision problems, but in this instance Spock thinks it illogical to risk his eyesight when the problem is easily corrected by non-invasive means. Also, he doesn't trust Dr. McCoy with a laser. His glasses rarely make it off of his nightstand (concern for outward appearance is most certainly illogical; in the event of turbulence, he might fall and his glasses might shatter and injure him). So he employs another technique gleaned from Chapel's optometric expertise. He stares into space.

"Literally."

Spock shakes himself from his reverie, dragging his tired eyeballs away from the mesmerizing tracers of stars as seen at Warp Seven. Jim stands in the lab doorway, arms braced against the frame. He looks as tired as Spock feels. It is his seventh night supervising Botany's attempt to cultivate a fungus native to Regulus X with purported medicinal qualities. Or is it the sphagnum moss that grows under the permafrost on Delta Vega? Spock can't remember. He chooses to ignore this troubling fact and turns his attention to Kirk.

"Captain?"

"You're literally staring into space. It's just an expression, but-"

"It is helpful in relaxing the ocular muscles, to counteract eyestrain," Spock explains.

"It's the light in here, isn't it? Gets to me too. Up on the bridge, I mean." Jim raises a hand to his eyes, massaging his temples with thumb and forefinger.

"Captain, if I may ask- it is 0417 hours. If I recall your schedule correctly, you have not volunteered to take a Gamma shift this quarter. You should be in your quarters resting prior to Alpha shift, which starts in-" he consults the chrono at his wrist distastefully, as he has persisted in anthropomorphizing it in a most illogical manner- "three hours, forty-three minutes. It may not be sufficient for the full R.E.M. cycle that is preferable in your species, but-" Jim winces, and Spock lets his sentence trail off.

"Yeah, can't sleep. I'd pretty much kill for a decent R.E.M. cycle right about now."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Fascinating. I find myself with a similar problem. How long has your condition persisted? And do you have any idea as to its cause?"

Jim glances at the floor and is silent for a long moment. His mouth quirks up in a bitter smile. "Oh, you know. Things keep coming up." Spock does not know.

"Captain, if you feel your performance is compromised by insomnia, I feel it my duty to advise you that, as Dr. McCoy persists in reminding us-"

"They have hyposprays for that? Yeah, I know. Believe me, Bones is on it already. Unfortunately, they don't have hyposprays for what happens after you're asleep."

"Captain?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Spock. Don't worry about it. Just dreams." Jim claps Spock on the shoulder in what Spock has come to recognize as a "reassuring gesture".

"So what about you? Why're you in the lab at 0417 hours? And don't tell me that you've got some hotshot experiment that requires supervision at a critical juncture, or whatever. You're growing plants. This is like the scientific equivalent of watching paint dry."

Spock sighs. "I cannot refute that statement, Jim. This is not the most scintillating experiment I have supervised. I do, however, find myself lately at something of a loss as to how to most productively utilize my time. Having an additional 56 hours per week in which to complete my administrative duties has been most useful. But it seems I have run out of things to do."

"So- wait. 56 hours? You haven't slept in seven days?"

"There may have been a few hours here and there in which I was technically unconscious. I believe the colloquial phrase is 'tossing and turning'? However, no, I have not had a satisfactory period of R.E.M. sleep in seven days."

"How are you still functioning?" Jim gapes.

"Vulcans do not require as much sleep as humans to maintain their physical and mental well-being…." Jim gives Spock his best effort at a skeptically raised eyebrow. "Also, I have had an ensign from Engineering tinkering with the replicator. It can now produce a passable cappuccino."

Jim snorts. "Of course you drink cappuccinos. Of course you do."

Spock finds himself illogically affronted. "They are frothy," he counters weakly.

At this, Jim laughs in earnest, big ringing peals of laughter that do not discomfit Spock nearly as much as they might have four months ago. He is becoming used to the captain's frequent and dramatic expressions of emotion, for better or for worse.

Still giggling, Jim perches on the edge of the table next to Spock. "Are you pouting?" he asks. "You're totally pouting. I didn't mean to question your taste in coffee, Spock. I just always figured you for more of an espresso guy, myself." Spock can tell that he's about to go off again; Jim flares his nostrils and presses his lips together in a thin line when he's trying not to laugh. He bites the inside of his cheek when it gets really bad, or so he told Spock after a particularly dicey diplomatic function on Rigel 7.

Jim seems to get himself under control, and continues, "But seriously, Spock, don't let this go too far. That thing about hyposprays goes both ways, you know. I can order you to get some rest. " He says this gently.

"Of course, Jim. Regrettably, the sleep aids Dr. McCoy provides are contraindicated for long-term use; I wished to resolve my problem without resorting to pharmaceuticals. However, if necessary I will certainly take it under advisement."

"OK. But I need you. Uh, I mean, it's not so great for the Enterprise if both her Captain and First Officer are keeling over from exhaustion on the bridge. Plus, I need you on your game for this mission. We need to find out if this thing Tom's discovered does what it says on the box or not."   
"You are personally acquainted with Dr. Leighton?" Spock finds himself increasingly unsurprised by the diversity of Jim's acquaintances. He is gregarious, and kind, and he genuinely cares for others' well being. It is logical to wish to make the personal acquaintance of someone like Jim.

Jim looks at the floor again. "Yeah, I…uh…I knew him when I was younger. About ten-twelve years ago. So when are we getting to Planet Q again, anyway? I want to get this milk run over with."

"It is hardly a milk run, as you put it, Jim. If this synthetic food is indeed a sound discovery, it will have life-altering consequences for the population of Cygnia Minor. It may also ease the agricultural difficulties the colonists on New Vulcan are currently experiencing and allow them to turn their attention to rebuilding the higher functions of Vulcan society rather than expending considerable energy just to scrape by." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, stilling the rising tide of emotion. Spock finds it helpful to think of it as packing, or tidying a room- each messy emotion placed in a neatly labeled box, everything in its right place. He feels a hand on his shoulder, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt, and thinks that Jim is right; this gesture is oddly reassuring. He glances at Jim, who is watching him intently with a look of concern on his face. "I am sorry, Jim. Even now, it is…difficult to speak of impartially."

He continues, before Jim can deliver another of the lectures on the grieving process that he and Nyota and Spock's mandatory Starfleet-appointed psychologist are so fond of. "In any case, as the ship has not changed course or rate of speed since you last asked Ensign Chekov that question at the end of our shift yesterday, I doubt very much that the answer has changed. We will reach Planet Q in two Earth days' time. Until then, I suggest you try and get some rest."

Jim sighs. "Likewise. But I think I'm a lost cause tonight. I'm gonna go up to the observation deck for a little while. Watch the sunrise. " Spock allows the corners of his mouth to quirk subtly upward at this. "See you on the bridge?" Spock nods his acknowledgement, and turns his attention to the moss, or fungus. _Or whatever_, Spock hears in a voice that is not his own.


	2. Chapter 2

"Entering orbit of Planet Q, Captain."  
Spock looks up from his station, subtly shaking his head as if that will help clear it after another night of inadequate rest. He cannot deny lack of sleep is beginning to catch up with him, and he thinks tonight may be the night he succumbs to Dr. McCoy and his hypospray. As much as he desires sleep, the thought is thoroughly unappealing.

Across the bridge, he watches Jim stifle a yawn before responding to Mr. Sulu's announcement. "Thanks, Sulu. Maintain orbit for the next 24 hours. I'm going down to the surface to see what Dr. Leighton's got for us." He leans over his built-in communicator. "Transporter room? One to beam down." He gets up, rolling his shoulders and stretching slightly before turning to leave the bridge.

Spock rises automatically. "Captain, do you wish company for your meeting with the doctor? I may be of assistance in determining the efficacy of the synthetic foodstuff."

Jim looks up at him and smiles. Spock is admittedly unskilled at parsing the subtleties of human emotion, but he thinks he detects a hint of sadness in the captain's face as he responds. "Thanks but no thanks, Spock. I'd rather deal with Tom solo for now. But I'll be sure to bring you back a full report and arrange for your people to meet with his team if it looks like his discovery will be helpful." He heads for the turbolift, then hesitates for a moment before turning back to his first officer. "Don't worry, Spock. If this thing can help New Vulcan, we'll get it there as soon as we can. Promise. Besides, I think Tom said something about taking me to see some play- and if there's one thing I know about Vulcans, it's that you guys are definitely allergic to drama." He makes a face.

Spock does not dignify this with a response, merely raises an eyebrow and turns back to his station. He thinks he hears soft laughter from the direction of the turbolift.

*******

The Captain remains planetside following the evening meal. Spock checks with the transporter room to be sure. He feels restless, a state seemingly incompatible with his physical exhaustion. He cannot slow the stream of thoughts that overtakes him, and after he leaves the officers' mess he finds himself, yet again, at a loss for how to occupy his time. It is still early, and Spock has no desire to attempt sleep yet. It is inordinately frustrating to lie on his bed as the minutes and hours pass and he remains regrettably conscious. When he closes his eyes and quiets his mind, he finds that thoughts come unbidden to the forefront. He finds himself remembering strange things, things he has not thought of in years- the smell of the air in his parents' garden, seemingly inconsequential days at school, the taste of a simple dish his mother made so often he previously found it unpleasant. Now, however, he finds himself thinking of this and other quotidian memories with a fondness that is always swiftly followed by despair. This, he knows, is logical. It is logical to afford these small things higher import, now that they have been irreparably destroyed. Wanting is often, after all, a greater thing than having.

Spock finds himself walking the corridors of the ship somewhat idly. He is vaguely aware of making his way- albeit in a roundabout manner-to sickbay, and the promise of a solid night of rest at long last. He hopes to walk off some of his restless energy first. He passes the recreation room, where he can hear the strains of Nyota's lyre filtering into the hallway. He hears her laughing at a muffled comment he cannot make out, and he feels a pang. Along with the memories of his childhood on Vulcan that come unbidden to his mind at night are other memories. Nyota- her easy smile, the intensity on her face when she's in the midst of a particularly difficult translation, the satisfaction that replaces it when she is successful. Spock envies her skill in this and its application to her personal relationships. Communication has never been his strong suit- and communicating in the face of strong emotion, for him, requires its own kind of translation. She was adept at it, as in all things. But as she told him once, with defeat in her eyes, she found it exhausting.

That is not what she deserves, she thinks. He supposes that she used exhaustion as a metaphor, as conversation is not typically physically trying. But as he walks, head swimming, he thinks he understands what she meant, and he would not wish it on anyone.

Spock turns a blind corner, following his racing thoughts, and looks up just in time to collide with a yellow blur. "Fuck, Spock! You just appear out of nowhere sometimes!" exclaims Jim from the floor. Spock extends a hand. "My apologies, Captain. My thoughts were elsewhere."

Jim shrugs as he takes Spock's hand in his and pulls himself to his feet. "S'no big deal. Listen, are you busy right now? You wanna play chess or something?"

"Are you not in need of rest following your meeting with Dr. Leighton? If you wish to debrief me, it may wait until morning."

Jim grins, and as before, Spock thinks he sees the barest hint of tightness around his captain's eyes, the corners of his mouth. "Nah, it's early. And besides-" he stifles another yawn-"I'm not tired. C'mon, I'm still waiting for that rematch from last week." Their hands are still clasped, Spock notices. Jim looks down at their entwined fingers, then back up at Spock. His smile widens, and the tightness dissolves. Perhaps, Spock thinks, it was never there to begin with. Jim turns and pulls his first officer toward the captain's quarters, giving Spock an impatient little tug before dropping his hand and striding off purposefully. The captain of the Enterprise is a force of nature, and Spock has no choice but to follow in his wake.

There is something amiss with the captain. He appears agitated, tapping the ball of his foot absently against the floor as Spock arranges the chessboard. His moves are unconsidered, and Spock quickly amasses a neat pile of Jim's black chess pieces. They finish one game and then another, Spock claiming each victory with none of Jim's characteristic protest or playful accusations of cheating. Curiously, Spock finds the interlude significantly less rewarding without their usual banter, although the captain's mood should not logically have any bearing on his enjoyment of chess.

He has just asked Jim if he would care to play a third game ("I believe the phrase is, 'best out of three'?") and has been summarily ignored. Jim is staring at the wall just to the right of Spock's cup of tea. He is chewing on his bottom lip.

"Captain? Jim? Is everything all right?"

Jim exhales loudly. "No. No, everything is not all right, Spock. For fuck's sake. I go down to the planet, and Tom's there and I ask about the synthetic food and he's so fucking cryptic. He wants us to go see this traveling theater company, they're putting on Macbeth, it's this interplanetary cultural exchange thing- anyway, there's no goddamn synthetic food. We traveled three fucking light years off course to get here for no reason. He lied to us- he lied to me. To get me to Planet Q to see this fucking play."

Spock feels…deflated. What this discovery would have meant to thousands of starving people- the hope it would have brought with it- what it would have meant to New Vulcan- but no. It is not to be. There is nothing to gain from dwelling on what will not come to pass. Spock bites hit lower lip and looks up at Jim.

"Did you discover the importance of this play? Why was Dr. Leighton so insistent that you see it? He may have drawn us to his planet under false pretenses, but I do not imagine he would do so lightly."

Jim looks at him with an unreadable expression. He appears to be considering his words carefully, and when he speaks it is in a low, neutral tone."What do you know about Tarsus IV?"

Spock straightens; after the shock and disappointment of Jim's revelation, it is reassuring to deal in cold historical fact. "Tarsus IV is an M-class planet in the Tarsus system. It housed a fledgling Earth colony until 2246, when an exotic fungus infected the planet's ecosystem, destroying the colony's food supply. There were over 8,000 colonists on Tarsus; the situation was dire. Amidst panic, Governor Kodos assumed control and declared martial law, whereupon he ordered the deaths of 4,000 colonists that the other half might survive."

"God, you're like a textbook. Yeah. Kodos was a nutjob. He had all these ideas about propagation of the species, how the weak and sick should be culled to give the "fitter members of society" a fighting chance…"

Jim's voice is thick with…fear, almost. Panic. Spock is taken aback.

"You are speaking of Kodos' theories of eugenics."

Jim nods. "He was pretty convincing. A lot of people bought into it- of course, when it's that or step into the disintegrator…."

"Yes, Kodos' methods of execution were painless....Captain, if I may ask a personal query?" Jim nods, wincing slightly.

Spock continues carefully. "You speak as if from personal experience."

Jim looks pained. He lets out a breath he's been holding since before Spock asked his question. "You know a couple nights ago when I ran into you in the lab, and you asked if I knew Tom Leighton personally?" Spock nods. "I knew Tom when I was thirteen. We were on Tarsus together."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note on Canon**: I've had to take a few liberties with Lenore Karidian's age here. In the TOS 'verse, she is in her late teens and Kirk is in his 30s. For the purposes of this story, I'm assuming that in the alternate timeline, she was born earlier and is thus closer to Reboot!Kirk in age here.

Spock swallows. He finds himself somewhat at a loss as to how to appropriately respond to this information. He speaks slowly. "I grieve with thee." The formal Vulcan response seems somehow fitting, although Spock does not know who, if anyone, Jim lost on Tarsus. Jim does not meet his eyes when he answers. "Thank you."

"Do you wish to further discuss your experience?" Spock has learned that humans gain comfort from speaking at length about personal matters. It is Starfleet's rationale behind Spock's orders to seek the assistance of a professional in "processing" the destruction of his homeworld, the loss of his mother. "Will it give you comfort?" Spock fills with a sudden desire to ensure the captain's wellbeing. "I have often said you enjoy the sound of your own voice to an unflattering degree," Spock offers carefully. "Yet I find this uncharacteristic silence strangely lacking." It is not like Jim to be so reticent.

Jim looks up at him with a tired smile, and this time the Vulcan cannot mistake the warring emotions in the captain's face. "Are you attempting to inject some levity into this situation, Mr. Spock? How very human of you."

"Captain, I see no reason why I should sit here and be insulted." This earns him a laugh, and something inside Spock gives a little leap of pride.

"I, uh, don't really talk about Tarsus much," Jim says. "What's done is done, you know? I got through it. Sometimes it's hard to understand why, but I don't really dwell on it. And wondering why I lived when they didn't- it's not going to bring all those people back. Like I said, Kodos was a nutjob. There's no logic there. "

"I have come to understand that there is little that is logical about grief, Jim," Spock says.   
"As for your characterization of Kodos, I do not believe his decisions were entirely devoid of logic. However, it was a perverted logic. Kodos' victims died quickly, without pain. But they died. As a child I prized logic above all things; now, knowing of men like Kodos, I believe I was in error."

Jim smirks. "Don't let Bones hear you say that. But for what it's worth, I think you're right. You know, they never got a solid ID on Kodos' body?"  
Spock raises an eyebrow. "It was burned beyond recognition. Are you implying that there may be some doubt that Kodos expired on Tarsus IV twelve years ago?"

"I never thought about it. I always thought he was dead, and good fucking riddance. But…I don't know, Spock. Maybe I just wanted it to be over so badly." Jim looks down at his hands; his fingers knit together in his lap. He cracks a knuckle absently. "Tom wanted me to see the play because he's got this crazy idea that the leader of this traveling theater troupe- this guy Karidian- Tom thinks he's Kodos."

"And what do you think, Jim?"

"I don't know. I mean, it's crazy, right? He's just an old man who maybe looks like Kodos would look, if he were alive today. Maybe. Anyway, I think we're going to have to stick around Planet Q a little while longer. Tom's throwing some cocktail party and I told him I'd go and get a look at this guy."

"Do you wish for me to accompany you to this gathering?"

"No, Spock, it'll suck. I know how much you hate those Federation meet-and-greets- this'll be like ten times worse because no one knows anyone and we can't even make small talk about dilithium mining on Gamma Whatever. And it's an earth colony, so not even any cool-looking alien girls." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Spock schools his features into a perfectly blank look. "No doubt you will find some way to amuse yourself, captain."

Spock isn't sure exactly what he meant by that remark- he had some vague ideas about Jim drinking too much of some exotic beverage and turning up outside his quarters in the small hours before shuffling off to sickbay to share his latest finding with McCoy, that connoisseur of inebriants.

****************

Whatever Spock expected, it wasn't Lenore Karidian. Nyota announces the woman's arrival with a querulous look in Spock's direction, but he's just as taken aback as she is. Jim turns as the turbolift opens, and Spock thinks the captain looks strange, his face a mask of disquiet. But the doors part, and the actress steps onto the bridge, and Jim's features resolve themselves into ease the way his body settles into the captain's chair first thing every morning.

Spock doesn't even try to conceal the fact that he's listening in on Jim's conversation with Lenore. He concedes that it might be prudent to avoid the appearance of complete incredulity in the face of the captain's glib promise to "drop you guys off at Benecia, s'no big deal, not that far out of the way." However, he finds it difficult to avoid interjecting as Jim tells Chekov to plot a course, so he turns back to his PADD, gripping the stylus so tightly his hand begins to cramp. Lenore leaves, ostensibly to beam back down to the surface and ready the players for pickup, and Spock can no longer contain himself.

"Captain. I must admit that I am finding it difficult to justify a detour to Benecia when it will take us a full eight light years off our scheduled course."

"Well, Spock, lucky for you, you don't have to justify it. Because I'm the Captain. You're just along for the ride."

"As your first officer, I feel I must register my disapproval of what can only be described as a gratuitous waste of both manpower and resources."

"Tell it to your personal log. We're still going to the colony. And if I wanted your opinion, _Mister_ Spock, I'd ask for it. Sulu, you have the conn. If you need me, I'll be on Deck 6."

"Guest quarters, sir?" asks Sulu.

Jim doesn't answer, and he doesn't spare so much as a glance at Spock's station before heading for the turbolift.

*************

Spock allows himself a sigh as the door to his quarters shuts behind him. He removes his boots and sits heavily on the edge of his bed. "I have a headache," he says aloud, and if there is the faint edge of a whine in his voice, there is no one there to witness it. He is tempted to stretch out and close his eyes, early as it is. Perhaps he is tired enough at last that sleep will come easily. An image comes unbidden to his mind- a room in his parents' house. His mother called it a sunroom. It was enclosed on three sides by glass, with seating around the perimeter. As a child, Spock would often retreat there with a book and lean up against the windows, his back to the unrepenting Vulcan sun. He would start out with good intentions, perhaps to finish a chapter or two, but without fail the warmth would seep into his bones, his eyelids would grow heavy, and he would not wake until his mother came to collect him for the evening meal. The sun would dim to a low smolder and she would gather him up in her arms. Her body was always so cool.

Spock's communicator chirrups.

"Mr. Spock? Scott here. I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I've got Lieutenant Kevin Riley back down here from Communications. Says the Captain ordered it. Riley's not very happy with me, Spock. He wants to know if he's done something wrong, and I can't get Captain Kirk to respond."

"Lieutenant Riley is a fine officer, and has been an asset to Communications since his transfer there. I must admit that I cannot understand the captain's motivation for returning him to Engineering. Please tell him that this reassignment is likely temporary. I will speak with the captain and relay his response to you. Spock out."

Spock sighs again, rubbing his eyes. He pulls on his boots again and rises, rolling his shoulders in a vain attempt to quell the tension there. Tonight will not be the night he sleeps. He finds Jim in his own quarters, blessedly alone. Spock's frustration at the captain's behavior is tempered by the fact that Jim looks terrible. He's sitting at his desk, querying the library computer. The computer is reeling off a list of names, but when Spock enters Jim shuts it down midway through.

He looks down at his hands, which are trembling around a stylus on the desk. Spock has seen Jim worried, scared, furious, but he's never seen him quite like this. There's a restless energy permeating the room, but at the same time Jim is almost palpably exhausted. Spock is struck by how closely the captain's demeanor seems to mirror his own. There is a difference, thinks Spock. I am not making decisions to the detriment of this ship. I am fulfilling my responsibilities as First Officer to the best of my ability.

He takes a deep breath. "Captain Kirk, I regret the intrusion. Mr. Scott has alerted me to the fact that you have requested Lieutenant Riley resign his post in Communications and return to the Engineering Deck. With his recent transfer to Communications, he is certain to regard this as a disciplinary measure, which his job performance does not warrant. I wish to inquire as to your motivation for the transfer."

Jim gives a short, harsh little laugh. "My motivation? I'm pretty sure there's no Starfleet regulation requiring a captain to explain his motivation to a subordinate." He says this as if trying unsuccessfully to suffuse his tone with venom.

"There is not. However, I admit to some concern for your wellbeing, and I wished to confirm your decision regarding Lieutenant Riley in person. You are not required to provide me with any explanation; however, as your First Officer and your…friend, I would hear your thoughts on the matter."

Jim swallows. He seems vaguely frustrated at Spock's refusal to engage. "You know Leighton's dead?"

"I do, Jim. I am sorry."

"Yeah, me too. I found him, you know that?" Jim's expression is bleak.

"I did not."

"He was just lying there, shoved off the path, like whoever did it didn't even care who knew he was dead. Tom didn't deserve that. He'd been through a lot, on Tarsus and then after. He was just trying to make his way, do his work, and then this. It's just bullshit, Spock."

"Death holds no regard for logic. It is a truth I have come to understand intimately."

Jim sighs heavily, shaking his head. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"Jim, why have you brought the Karidian Players onboard the ship?" Spock asks gently. He knows he is treading on dangerous ground, but something is beginning to form at the back of his brain, nagging like the thoughts that keep him from sleep.

Another joyless laugh. "Oh, you know me, Spock- can't resist a damsel in distress. And she's not bad to look at, either." He winks, and Spock's stomach lurches. The gesture is so incongruous as to be nearly obscene. Jim rakes his hands through his hair. "Now if you don't mind, I've got a, uh, report to file."

"Captain, have you slept?" asks Spock. But Jim is already waving him out the door. "I can sleep when I'm dead, Spock."  
As the doors to Jim's quarters slide shut, Spock turns to face the empty hallway. His mind feels strangely clear, as after one too many replicated cappuccinos. Thoughts of sleep now forgotten entirely, he strides purposefully toward the turbolift, and, stepping inside, directs it to the bridge.

The bridge is nearly empty; the Beta shift crew is winding down and several of them have already left to make way for their Gamma counterparts. The bright white glare that so bothers Spock has been dimmed in an approximation of evening, and he is grateful for it as he politely relieves the science officer on duty and sits down at his station. He is gambling now, counting on the fact that the captain's ratio of exhaustion to paranoia will tip in Spock's favor. As a senior officer, Jim has the ability to block access to his account activity on the Library Computer.   
"Computer, request log of all queries submitted in the last 24 hours."

The computer is silent for a moment, then begins to reel off a list of search queries and the key codes of the crew members who submitted them. There are a few queries from Engineering, one from Nyota on the evolution of the most obscure Romulan dialect, and then Spock finds what he's looking for. "Tarsus IV, Survivors of: Kodos, Eyewitnesses to. Query run by Captain James T. Kirk, 2126 hours."

"Computer, repeat query results."

"Tarsus IV, survivors of: 4,000 total survivors. Of these, 9 eyewitnesses to Kodos."

"Give names."

"Fuller, Helen, deceased; Kirk, James T.; Leighton, Thomas, deceased. Riley, Kevin T.; Seel, Martine, deceased. Yamamoto, Aiko; deceased…"

"Stop, computer. Go back. Riley, Kevin- Starfleet affiliation?"

"Riley, Kevin T. Lieutenant, _USS Enterprise_."

Spock raises an eyebrow. Why are all the rest dead? he thinks. Jim was 13 at the time of Kodos' rule; Leighton could not have been much older. And Leighton was murdered.

"Computer, Access personnel files of deceased survivors."

"Accessed," chirps the computer.

"Similarities?"

"Cause of death- poisoning. Authorities suspect foul play. All murders remain unsolved."

Spock bites his lip. He now has a theory, and apparently the captain has one, too. "For Jim's sake, I hope we are both incorrect," he says to himself. The displaced ensign sitting nearby looks up from her PADD; Spock feels himself flush and is again grateful for the dim light on the bridge. He shakes his head at her and returns his attention to the computer.

"Computer, request itinerary of Intergalactic Cultural Exchange theater program dating to its inception. Also request personnel file of Karidian, Anton."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note on Canon**: I've had to take a few liberties with Lenore Karidian's age here. In the TOS 'verse, she is in her late teens and Kirk is in his 30s. For the purposes of this story, I'm assuming that in the alternate timeline, she was born earlier and is thus closer to Reboot!Kirk in age here.

Spock's earlier clarity is regrettably short-lived.

When he finds himself at the door to sickbay, it is not for the reason he had hoped earlier in the evening. He steels himself before entering, trying to ignore the pounding behind his eyeballs. As expected, Dr. McCoy is sitting in his office, contemplating a tall bottle of something thick and purple. He seems to be debating whether the crystal tumbler on the desk is necessary, or if he should cut out the middle man and swig straight from the bottle. Spock wonders abstractly when colloquialisms such as "cut out the middle man" managed to infiltrate his vernacular. He suspects he can hazard a guess.

McCoy is gruff; Spock thus determines that he has not yet sampled the odious purple liquid. "You look tired, you know that? And what do you mean, Jim's 'acting strangely'? You're going to have to be more specific. After all, Spock, the man on top walks a lonely street…the chain of command is often a noose."

Spock sighs. "Spare me your philosophical metaphors, Doctor. And are you quite sure you have not had anything to drink tonight?"

McCoy leans back in his office chair, spinning round in a half-circle.  
"There are more things in Heaven an' Earth, Mr. Spock, than are dreamt of in your Vulcan philosophy," he drawls. "But, unfortunately, no. I have not. And it's been too damn long. This little lady has been marinating in my stash for so long it's almost criminal. God, what a week." He apparently settles on the tumbler, pouring out a measure and holding it out to Spock. "Care to join me?"

Spock straightens his uniform, feeling harassed. "Vulcans are spared the dubious effects of alcohol, Doctor. Now, if we may return to the subject at hand: Captain Kirk is acting strangely, and I am asking if you have noticed."

"So you came in here prattling about how Jim transferred Riley back to Engineering without consulting you. Now you see what it's like being down here in sickbay all the time- there's plenty that goes on on this ship that I'm not privy to, and looks like neither are you. Jim's got his reasons, Spock. You might not always like his methodology, but he hasn't crashed the ship yet."

"As Captain Kirk does not actually pilot the Enterprise, the likelihood of his having occasion to collide with either a planetary body or another spacecraft is slim at best, Doctor." McCoy rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, no doubt ready to bemoan Spock's deliberate literalism. Spock holds up a hand.

"Please, allow me to finish. I am not questioning Jim's competence as captain. You and I both agree on his skill in that area. However, recently he has complained of insomnia. I spoke with him several days ago regarding his condition, and it does not appear that circumstances have improved."

"And you're thinking that might be impeding his judgment? You know, he did come down here last week complaining of nightmares. I told him we had hyposprays for that. But he doesn't want anything that'll bring on dreamless sleep- says it's too dangerous for him to be that far under when he's on duty."

"He is technically correct, although I believe the significant period he has gone without a complete R.E.M. cycle has had deleterious effects. There is…something else."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"What do you know about Tarsus IV?"

McCoy swallows his drink in one gulp and pours another. "Damn, Spock, you sure know how to crash a party. I know enough about Tarsus- what's in the history books, what we studied at the Academy. I mean, I'm a doctor, not a governor, but I'm pretty sure it's the number one example of how NOT to run a colony."

Spock nods. "You are given to hyperbole, Doctor, but I believe you are correct in this instance. Are you also aware of the fact that Captain Kirk lived on the colony during Kodos' governorship?"

McCoy looks grave. "Yeah, I know about that too. He doesn't like to talk about it much. I think he has nightmares about it sometimes- when he's under stress, usually. He used to stop sleeping during exam periods- it's a miracle he passed any of them." He shrugs. "I tried to get him to see someone about it then, I mean, hell, didn't have to be me if he wanted privacy. But that's Jim, can't tell him anything sometimes." He runs his fingers through his hair and looks up at Spock in exasperation. "You look like you have something else to say."

"I also find it illogical that Jim should invite the Karidian Players onto the ship. Prior to this decision he expressed to me his great frustration at being diverted three light years off course to Planet Q under false pretenses. It does not follow that he should then divert us a full eight light years out of our way to the Benecia Colony."

McCoy looks incredulous. "_Spock_. Did you get a look at Juliet? She's pretty easy on the eyes. Did it occur to you that eight light years off course with Lenore Karidian might not look like such a losing proposition to Jim?"

Spock crosses his arms defensively, although he cannot quite be sure why McCoy's comment irks him so. "It…it occurred," he says hoarsely. McCoy raises both eyebrows. Spock continues, clearing his throat. "It occurred. I dismissed it."

"Well, you would. Your chemistry, and all." McCoy is baiting him, and Spock knows it. Ordinarily he would trust his strength of will to stopper any resulting emotion, to shut the doctor down with a glacial stare, but he is so tired. His eyes prickle; he will have to see Chapel about something for the dryness. "Dr. McCoy, I fail to comprehend how my Vulcan heritage should in any way render me incapable of autonomic response to sexual stimuli," he snaps. "_Now._ If you have quite finished this…childish attempt to provoke a response, I will thank you to let me finish. This matter is of grave concern to the Captain's safety."

"Wow, Spock, I didn't know you cared." McCoy's voice loses its biting edge, and Spock notes genuine surprise in his tone.

"Jim is my friend, " Spock says plainly. A flush creeps into his cheeks and he wills it away. He is not sure why he is explaining this to McCoy, but it seems easier somehow than hedging, couching his worry in terms of the ship and her crew. And, as always, Spock finds dishonesty difficult.

"Yeah, well, he's my friend too. Now, what's got you so worked up about the theater troupe? What do they have to do with Tarsus…with Jim?"

"You know of the Captain's tenure on Tarsus. Do you also know that out of nine eyewitnesses, the only survivors of the genocide who could identify Kodos, two serve on the _Enterprise_?"

"Two?

"Yes, two. Captain James T. Kirk, and Lieutenant Kevin Riley. I have also discovered that of the nine, only Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Riley are left alive. The other seven died under mysterious circumstances. One of them was Thomas Leighton."

"I'm still not getting how this ties into Lenore Karidian."

"Prior to Dr. Leighton's untimely death on Planet Q yesterday evening, he held a cocktail party at his residence. The purpose of the party was to gather evidence on the leader of the Karidian Players, one Anton Karidian. Jim told me that Leighton had reason to believe he and Kodos were one and the same. You do know that Kodos' body was never positively identified?"

"Yeah, it was burned, wasn't it?" McCoy looks deep in thought, staring into his drink.

"Correct. According to my Library Computer, there is no data on Anton Karidian prior to the date Kodos was last seen alive. What is more, each murder occurred when the Karidian Players were performing nearby. "

McCoy's eyes are wide. "So you think Jim suspects Karidian is Kodos?"

"Yes, I believe so," Spock confirms.

"So he sent Riley down to Engineering to protect him. He knew Karidian's daughter would be on the bridge. She might not be in on it, but…" McCoy trails off.

Spock nods. "Affirmative. Doctor, should something befall Lieutenant Riley…"

Much later, Spock will note the incredible dramatic irony inherent in what happens next. McCoy's and Spock's communicators beep insistently at the same moment Nurse Chapel's voice comes over the ship's public address system calling the doctor to sickbay. Spock answers his communicator. "Mr. Spock, it's Scott here." He sounds harried. "Sir, it's Riley. He's been poisoned."

McCoy gapes at Spock, blue eyes like saucers. Spock does not bother to mask the shock and fear he knows are written on his own face.

"Shit," says McCoy.

"Indeed," Spock replies. "Doctor, I suggest you get to sickbay and do your level best to save Lieutenant Riley. If he dies…"

"…Jim's next," McCoy scowls. "Dammit, Spock, I don't like finishing your sentences. That's not _my_ job. Let's figure this shit out so we can get back to good-natured animosity."

"That state of affairs would indeed be reassuringly familiar, Doctor."

"OK, so I'm going to sickbay, kicking ass and saving lives. Where are _you_ going?"

"I am going to attempt to speak to the Captain."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note on Canon**: I've had to take a few liberties with Lenore Karidian's age here. In the TOS 'verse, she is in her late teens and Kirk is in his 30s. For the purposes of this story, I'm assuming that in the alternate timeline, she was born earlier and is thus closer to Reboot!Kirk in age here.

The corridors of the _Enterprise_ are not unlike the diagrams Spock has seen detailing the communal dwellings of certain Terran life forms. He feels distinctly antlike as he moves through the dimly lit halls towards Jim's quarters. Accordingly, he also feels very small. Something about the events of the past few days has robbed him of his sense of perspective. He knows, on one level, that it must be related to his exhaustion, but awareness of this fact does not assuage his sense of helplessness. He feels buffeted by his emotions, a seacraft in a hurricane. He thinks everyone he encounters must be able to see it, and he imagines that the crew members he passes leap back from him as from a live wire. The odd sensation only increases as he nears Jim's quarters. His head feels overstuffed with cotton wool and electricity; he can barely hear over the buzzing at his temples. At the captain's door, he raises a hand as if through water and knocks once, twice. The door slides open and he steps inside.

He finds Jim at his desk again, though this time the computer is silent. There are papers spread over the desk, and Jim looks down at them in a passable imitation of study, but his head is in his hands and Spock can see that his eyes are closed. Spock feels the sudden, strong desire to leave him- Jim does not look restful, but he is in such need of sleep. Then again, perhaps Spock is projecting his own exhaustion. Without moving, Jim speaks. "Spock." It is not a question.

Spock is filled with a sense of great urgency. He regrets that he does not have time to choose his words sensitively. He has conducted himself with dignity in the face of the captain's recent brusqueness towards him, but a small part of Spock stings with the memory of Jim's harsh words on the bridge. Nonetheless, Spock's distressing feelings on the matter are of little importance at present. He speaks plainly. "Lieutenant Riley is in sickbay. Mr. Scott believes him to have been poisoned."

"Shit," says Jim, under his breath. He turns to look at Spock. "Is he going to make it?"

"I do not know. Dr. McCoy is with him now. It appears his compatriots acted quickly; he may well recover. However, I must admit to grave concern for your own safety, Jim, in the face of this attack."

"Attack? What makes you think this was deliberate? There's all kinds of hazardous material all over this ship, and not just in Engineering." Spock looks studiously at the floor. "Look, Spock," Jim continues, "I can tell when you're brooding over something. If you've got something to say, just say it."

"Lieutenant Riley was a witness," Spock says quietly. "So were you."

Jim gives a poor imitation of a laugh. "Witness? I have no idea what you're talking about, Spock. Witness to what?"

"Jim, do not waste my time or yours with futile attempts at evasion. You know what I am referring to."

At this, Jim rises, stalking over to stand at arms length. "Yeah, OK, I do. And it's my _personal business_, Spock. I don't appreciate my First Officer poking his nose into my personal affairs."

Spock continues in the same neutral tone, although it is with great effort that he resists the quaver that threatens to creep into his voice. "I have consulted the library computer. My query returned the same information as yours."

"What the _fuck_? Don't you think you're getting a little out of line here, Spock? I could write you up for insubordination right now!"

_Breathe_, thinks Spock to himself. You must continue to breathe. "I hardly think my actions can be construed as insubordinate when I am acting in the best interests of this ship and her crew. With all due respect, Jim, I cannot currently say the same of you."

Jim takes a step closer, and for a moment Spock fully believes the captain is going to strike him. Abruptly, however, Jim's shoulders slump. "You can't prove anything, you know," he says, despondent.

"Captain," says Spock gently, "Even in this corner of the galaxy, two plus two equals four."

Jim looks at him. "Why do you care so much?"

"Jim, an attempt will almost certainly be made on your life. Why do you invite death?"

"I'm not," Jim says unconvincingly. "I just want…justice, I guess. Spock, if there's any chance Karidian is Kodos…God, all those people, I close my eyes and I _see_ them, Spock. If there's any chance at all…I have to know."

"Knowing will not bring back the dead, Jim."

"Don't you think I know that?" he replies with a bitter laugh. "It's crazy, I know. But part of me thinks they might rest easier. Or maybe _I_ will. Fuck, I'm tired." He sighs, rubbing his eyes before looking back up at Spock. "You haven't answered my question."

"Captain?"

"Don't play dumb, Spock. You know what I asked. Why do you care so much?"

As with McCoy earlier, Spock finds that everything he could say, the platitudes about Jim's skill as a captain, about duty to the _Enterprise_, to the Federation- they all die on his tongue. He lets out a sigh instead. Again he feels a hot tide rising, and is powerless to stop it. His emotions are beyond control, now, and there is nothing tidy about his mental landscape. He feels flushed, with shame and something else, something he is afraid to name.

"On the day Vulcan was destroyed, I told you Earth was the only home I had left. That statement is…no longer true." He swallows. "It would seem that this ship has become my home, Jim. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that… _you_ have become my home. I have lost one home already; I do not wish to lose another."

Jim blinks. He takes a step closer, then another; his body fills Spock's field of vision. Colors blur, and Spock's head swims. He feels dizzy. Jim draws a ragged breath, and leans forward until his forehead rests against Spock's. His hands run down the Vulcan's arms to draw their bodies together at the waist. "Spock," Jim gasps, and the part of Spock's brain that is still capable of conscious thought numbly catalogues _shock_ and _wonder_ and _want_ in that single word. "You are exhausted," Spock says in a whisper. The sensation is staggering; He can feel it rolling off both of them in waves. "Yeah," Jim whispers back. "I think I'm delirious." And he covers Spock's mouth with his own. They breathe there a moment, and then Jim is kissing him and Spock is drowning. He loses all sense of his body, he feels simultaneously minute and vast. He could contain universes. Blood pounds in his ears, eventually reconciling itself into an insistent hum.

That hum.

Spock breaks the kiss as if swimming up from great depths. "Jim."

"Mmmm. Spock," he slurs.

"Jim, you must listen. Do you hear that low hum?" He shakes the other man's shoulders insistently, then again more sharply. "Jim!"

Jim comes to himself, raking a hand through his hair and taking a step back from the Vulcan. He stills, listening. "It's…I think it's a phaser."

Spock nods. "On overload."

As if on cue, the hum grows shriller. Spock turns, looking around him wildly. The sound seems to be everywhere at once. He crosses Jim's cramped cabin in two strides and begins pulling the drawers from his bureau, tossing clothing everywhere. Nothing.

Across the room, Jim is rummaging through his desk drawers, stripping the bedclothes. Crossing back to the desk, he punches the button on his comm unit, somehow managing a modicum of calm. "This is the captain. There is a phaser on overload in my quarters. If it blows, it'll take out the entire deck. This is a double-red alert. Evacuate the deck immediately and await further instructions. Repeat, double-red alert; evacuate immediately. Kirk out."

He turns to Spock, breathing hard. "You've got to get out of here, Spock."

"Jim, you cannot stay. I…"

"Spock. Please, go. Help evacuate the deck. I'll find it." He grips Spock's shoulder hard enough to bruise before pushing him in the direction of the corridor. "_Go!_ That's an order."

Spock goes. He waves the crowd gathering outside away from the door, following them towards the turbolift to be certain they evacuate, and because he cannot trust himself to obey the captain if he is in sight of Jim's quarters. He can feel the humming in his teeth.

He waits for an interval he knows empirically to be seconds in duration, but which feels interminably longer. At last, he hears a noise from around the corner and leaps around it to see Jim holding the screeching phaser gingerly by his thumb and forefinger. Gesturing for Spock to stay clear, he drops it down a waste shaft exactly 5.8 seconds before the blast rocks the ship, throwing them to the ground.

Spock rights himself, rushing to kneel over Jim's prone form. "Captain. Jim! Are you injured?"

Jim rolls over onto his back. Spock cannot help but note the sunken eyes set in dark, almost bruised sockets, but the captain's face lights up in a genuine smile for the first time in days."Hey, Spock," he says softly.  
"It is difficult for me to reconcile your disposition with the fact that you have narrowly escaped an assassination attempt," Spock tells him. "However, I find myself…of a similar mind." He permits himself a small smile, which only serves to broaden Jim's. He is a small sun, gold against the industrial gray of the carpet that covers the corridor.

"I believe the appropriate phrase is, 'I told you so.'"

Jim laughs. "Come to gloat, have you, Mr. Spock? That's ok. You can gloat all you want if I get to do _that_ again. And being alive is a plus too, I guess."

"Jim, I regret to inform you that, much as I wish it were not the case, there appears to be a situation requiring our attention."

Jim's smile fades. "I know. I guess it's time for me to pay a visit to Karidian."

A possessive rush grips Spock; despite his full awareness of the captain's combat skills, leaving Jim alone with the man who has just attempted to murder him is suddenly, illogically out of the question. "I am coming with you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note on Canon**: I've had to take a few liberties with Lenore Karidian's age here. In the TOS 'verse, she is in her late teens and Kirk is in his 30s. For the purposes of this story, I'm assuming that in the alternate timeline, she was born earlier and is thus closer to Reboot!Kirk in age here.

In the turbolift, en route to guest quarters, Jim is quiet. He stares at the floor, worrying his lower lip. Spock has seen this look over the chessboard, not to mention the bridge, countless missions…well, it means that the Captain is deep in thought, and for an individual with something of a reputation for spontaneity, it is a pose he takes up surprisingly often.

Spock reaches out with one hand, gently brushing Jim's fingers with his own. Something in him gives a little thrill at the boldness of such a small gesture. What will you do, should our visit convince you that Karidian and Kodos are the same man?"

Jim gives him a sidelong glance. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead," he admits, scratching the back of his head. "I'm still…everything you said makes sense, Spock. And back there, with the phaser…I mean, all signs point to yes, and I get that. But I've got to make absolutely sure."

Spock halfway expects an armed guard to confront them at the door to Karidian's quarters, but Deck 4 is dim and quiet in the ship's artificial night. Jim keys in his override code, and they are greeted by more shadows. The only illumination inside Karidian's guest room is the dull red glow of the safety lights and the blue of the same standard-issue chronometer Spock has come to detest in his own quarters. The room feels dreamlike. Spock draws himself up, straightening his uniform reflexively, and stands squarely in front of the door. He nods at Jim. He has learned that such a gesture carries a reassuring connotation, and when Jim gives a tight smile in answer Spock resolves to add it to his repertoire.

For his part, Karidian has a weary look on his face as they enter. He barely glances up from the table, where he is bent over a folio, and holds up a hand to still them while he reads. Apparently finished with his sentence, Karidian sets the volume down and places his hands in his lap. "I had hoped that you would honor my request to be left alone, Captain. As you know, our performance approaches; it wouldn't do to repay the crew with a lackluster performance."

"Sorry, Karidian. Leaving you alone this long has been a dangerous proposition. I'd say we're already overdue for a chat, wouldn't you, Spock?" Jim glances at him.

"Ah, I see you've brought your Horatio," Karidian says drily. Spock raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, considering the fact that both of us were almost blown to bits about five minutes ago, he's not exactly thrilled about letting me out of his sight." Jim shoots him another sidelong glance. "And vice versa, I might add."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are referring to, Captain."

"Oh, I don't know, how about the phaser on overload that almost took out several decks of my ship and killed about a hundred of my crew? And I'm sure you don't know anything about my crewman Riley being poisoned, either."

Spock thinks he catches a glint of…something in the man's eyes, but then it is gone, and Karidian schools his features into a blank mask that the student of Surak in Spock cannot help but admire.

"Poisoned. Hmm. How unfortunate."

"Are you Kodos?" Jim sets his jaw squarely. Evidently he has elected to take a straightforward approach.

Spock is not sure what he expects, only that Karidian's measured reaction is not it. "Do you believe that I am?"   
Jim appears thrown by the question, but he recovers quickly. "I…yes."

"Then, Captain, I am Kodos." Jim gapes at the pronouncement. "I am an actor, Captain. I can be whoever you wish me to be." Karidian's lips quirk faintly upward; there is the parody of seduction in the man's tone. Spock feels vaguely sick.

Jim is silent, though Spock notes his hands are curled into fists at his side.

"Maybe you're an actor now, but what were you twelve years ago?"

Karidian smirks. "Younger."

Jim scoffs. "Yeah, well, so was I. Younger than you were. But I still remember. Let's see if you do."

He pulls a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and holds it out to Karidian, hand shaking slightly. Without thinking, Spock steps closer to Jim, fighting the urge to reach for his hand, to steady it, to stand with his Captain and challenge this man in whatever fashion Jim might have planned.

"Here. Read this into that communicator in the wall over there. And don't bother disguising your voice; there's state of the art speech recognition software in there. WE'll cross-check it with a sample of Kodos' voice we've got in our files. And we've got a Comms genius on the ship to boot. Between that software and Lieutenant Uhura, we'll know if you try to fake it." Jim clicks the comm unit on. "Ready for voice test."

Karidian looks blankly at Jim and Spock. Spock thinks that the man's reaction to Jim's accusation is strange; it is as if he expected the confrontation from the moment the players boarded the ship. Karidian opens his mouth, clears his throat, and, wearily, begins to read.

"…therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered. Signed, Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV."

"I…I wrote those words down from memory. I was thirteen, but I still remembered it, all of it. You said those words like you knew them; you didn't even look at the paper." Jim's voice sounds small, defeated. There is something in him that did not wish to find the truth of this matter, Spock thinks. And now Karidian has shown it to him, and he does not know what to do.

Karidian sits down heavily. "Did you get what you wanted, Captain?"

Did you? thinks Spock.

Jim laughs mirthlessly. "If I got what I wanted…you might not walk out of this room." His voice is unsteady. "C'mon, Spock, let's get out of here. Mr. _Karidian_ here has lines to learn."

There is a sound from behind the screen that leads to the cabin's sleeping area.

"So conscience makes cowards of us all, Captain."

Lenore Karidian steps out of the shadows, the sequins on her dress glittering faintly in the low light. Spock cannot help but think that her wardrobe thus far is thoroughly inappropriate for life on board a starship. He quickly reminds himself that given the fact that they are potentially dealing with an accomplice to murder, Lenore's sartorial missteps are the least of his worries.

"How now, a rat," Spock says.

"What the hell, Spock?" Jim appears baffled by the outburst.

"Is that not the contextually appropriate allusion?"

Jim gives a small shake of his head and shoots Spock a disbelieving look. Lenore smiles, white teeth flashing. "I see you've brought a friend! And a scholar at that. How nice. But must say, Captain, I am disappointed. I thought you might spare him your questions. My father, I mean. He is not well, you know."

"Yeah, well. Sorry for the inconvenience. We'll get out of your hair now. "

"You think you're a hero, is that it? Out to save the world? From what? My father is an old man. There's a stain of cruelty on your armor, _Captain_."

"Lenore, you don't know…you can't understand…"

"What can't I understand? You spoke of tools once- when we were together before. I was a tool, wasn't I? You used me to get to my father."

Jim looks gutted. He looks down at the floor, and when he looks back up his eyes dart first to Spock, then back to Lenore. They shine with tears, and Jim draws a ragged breath. "Maybe- maybe at first. But I don't know…I wanted…" Unable to finish, he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. We'll drop you off at Benecia, like I said we would. No harm done."

"No harm done." She laughs. "You're just like this ship you love so much. You're powerful- but you're not human. You think you're merciful- but there's no mercy in what you're doing to my father."

"What the captain is doing," interjects Spock, is delivering you and your father to a colony where you will be allowed to go about your business freely. Considering what we have learned of your father today, such a resolution to this episode could indeed be described as merciful."

"Captain, have you brought a computer along with you? Is this what a starship captain calls a friend?" Spock cannot help it; he swallows reflexively at her words and steps closer to Jim. Lenore looks back and forth from one to the other, and then turns back to Spock with a sneer. "I see. Be careful, Horatio. Have you yet thought of what use you might be to Jimmy here?"

Spock raises an eyebrow at this, but Jim crosses the room in two strides, standng face to face with the woman. Spock can see her chest rise and fall with the beat of her heart; Jim is so close to her, so angry, and yet she seems more excited than frightened. "Goddammit, you can stand here and insult me all you want, but don't you dare insinuate that-"

"Ms. Karidian," Spock interjects smoothly. "If you will excuse us." He closes his hand around Jim's wrist; the fierce rhythm of his pulse beats time against Spock's fingers. "Captain, I believe we have overstayed our welcome."

Spock marches Jim from Karidian's quarters and into the turbolift before allowing him to collapse against the wall. "Thanks, " says Jim breathlessly. "I kind of froze up in there."

"I believe you wished to exercise mercy in dealing with the Karidians. I was merely facilitating that wish."

"By forcibly removing me from the situation before I could kill Lenore?"

"Precisely." Spock is silent a momenent, then continues: "Jim, a moment ago. Ms. Karidian spoke of your misleading her- using her as a tool."

Jim sighs. "Yeah- I don't know, Spock. These last few days- they've been like a bad dream. Half the time I can't tell if I'm awake or if I'm finally sleeping, and this is just some ridiculous nightmare."

"But you have had…interactions with Lenore Karidian during her stay on the ship?"

 

"I guess you could say that."

Spock purses his lips. "Captain, if I may ask-"

"Boy meets girl, Spock."

"Pardon?"   
"Boy meets girl. It's, like, the most basic story ever. Just a teeny bit heteronormative for the 23rd century, but there you go. Anyway- As stories go? This whole thing?"-he gestures wildly at the turbolift- "My whole _life_? Pretty fucking dramatic, Spock. And I don't know if Karidian is Kodos, or if Lenore wasn't on Tarsus, or if she just wishes she wasn't. But I do know that for a while there, it was boy meets girl on a starship, and it was easy, and I knew how to do it."

Jim slides down the turbolift wall to rest on the floor. He looks up at Spock. "I don't know how to _do this_."

Spock sits down next to him, crossing his legs. He places one hand cautiously on Jim's knee. "You wish to be sure of Karidian's identity?"

Jim nods.

"Then I suggest we begin with the voice analysis."

Jim smiles at him. "Thanks, Spock."

"My lack of emotional investment in this situation merely facilitates a state of detachment conducive to problem-solving." Hypocrite, he thinks. Lack of emotion, indeed- His tongue is thick with it. It is a stone in his mouth.

"Jim, Ms. Karidian likened you to a machine a moment ago. I wish to tell you that that is an inaccurate estimation of your character. You are…most human."

"Well, I don't see why I should just sit here and be insulted, Mr. Spock." Jim raises an eyebrow at him. "Now come on, make yourself useful and give me a hand. We have a xenolinguistics genius to see about a voice analysis."

*~*~*~*~

The hour is late, but Nyota often remains awake into the small hours of the morning, working, conducting research, or practicing the lyre. Something stirs in Spock at the thought of her playing the traditional Vulcan instrument, of the fact that she remains committed to her practice following the termination of their personal relationship. He wonders if her continued study is a point of pride, but dismisses the thought almost as soon as it arises- Nyota would recognize the illogic of wasting time on an activity that served no practical purpose. The lyre must hold her interest for other reasons.

She meets them at the door to her quarters, leading them into the small office. Spock notices that she has drawn a drape across the entrance to her sleeping area, and he feels an odd sense of loss at her obvious desire for privacy.

Nyota's hair is down, and she is wearing simple black pants and a tunic with a thick, cream-colored sweater over it. It is tied with a sash at the waist, almost protectively.

"Our apologies for the intrusion, Lieutenant," Spock says by way of greeting. Nyota looks at him carefully.

"I printed the analysis after I got your comm," she says, ignoring his platitude. "It's very interesting." Crossing to the desk, she places the two readouts side by side. "Here's Kodos, and this one's Karidian."

"They're close," says Jim. "How close?"

"They look nearly identical to an untrained eye, but if you see here, and here- there are incongruities."

"Can you give me a number? A percent error or something?" Spock and Nyota both raise their eyebrows. Jim is not typically concerned with exactitudes. "Don't look at me like that. It's a man's life we're talking about here- I need to be absolutely sure."

"Well, there's always going to be margin for error, Captain," says Nyota. "But these readings- I'd call them identical for all intents and purposes."

"All intents and purposes, Lieutenant?"

Spock clears his throat. The thick feeling from the turbolift is still there. "If I may interject- I am familiar with Lieutenant Uhura's euphemistic reportage. I would venture a guess that 'all intents and purposes' correlates to a ninety-five to ninety-seven percent rate of certainty. I could provide you with more exact figures, but I believe I have made my point."

"Commander Spock is correct, Captain."

"OK," says Jim. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long rushing breath. "OK. Thank you, Lieutenant. You've been a huge help."

"It's no problem, Captain." Nyota reaches out and grasps Jim's arm as he turns to leave. "Captain. My mother had family on Tarsus. This thing you're doing…it's a good thing. And it's brave."

Jim swallows reflexively, and gives her a small nod of thanks. Spock turns to look at Nyota as he follows Jim from her quarters, and she gives him a sad smile. "Be careful," she whispers, and then the door slides closed between them with a puff of air.


End file.
